What you see in me is just a man,
going through life with no set plan
I live to write and sell,
write mostly through my ventures in this hell.
I have suffered like all people do,
but know my words are to marked as true.
I am no priest or pollution that minces any word
I am alone in life trying to live by what I heard.
My love is secret like my drive,
it has been the thing I had to pay for to thrive.
I trust almost none I see,
for none has ever set my spirit free.
I owe people of wealth and that in name,
a life that has been hatched from shame.
My true father once here and now lost,
a love of my heart he has lost.
a father I see now is the Man to raise me,
but even he has no sense of me.
I wonder the world with this untimely skill,
hoping my word can some how heal.
Thus I will never really know,
what is reality in life's show.
Take my hand as a friend of very few,
look into my eyes and see my view.
I will be there when others walk away.
I will be you friend of friends to stay.
In voice done trust this call,
its the actions I show we trust to all.
